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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281702">1,000 Push-Ups</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJuneRose/pseuds/AJuneRose'>AJuneRose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1000 push ups, F/M, Jake Peralta has Panic Attacks, Jake and Rosa, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:55:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJuneRose/pseuds/AJuneRose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short Jake/Rosa one shot set at the end of The Slaughterhouse episode. What if Jake can't hide his panic behind a mask of humor any more? How do he and Rosa react when they realize they're very likely going to Jail? My first Brooklyn 99 Fic! :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rosa Diaz/Jake Peralta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1,000 Push-Ups</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake thrashes and bucks when rough hands drag us back through the lobby of the bank toward a waiting van outside, but I am a statue carved from stony shock and I can't move.</p><p>He is shouting loudly at the officer reading him his Miranda Rights, screaming strangled disjointed sentences that make little sense- "No, she's dirty, I'm the sick one! I'm a clean boy!- and also my name.</p><p>"Rosa! No, no. no. no. Rosa!"</p><p>Mostly my name.</p><p>Jake spirals down into unrestrained panic faster than I've seen in years, and even worse than the time that we don't speak of- the day he collapsed, shaking, into my arms after I cut him free from the chair Hoytsman had him duct taped to.</p><p>He finds my eyes over the heads of the swarm of strange officers between us, and the wild terror in his expression fills my veins with liquid fury, but I have no reassuring smiles for him now. Because even though shock keeps my body from responding to my brain's command to cry, deep inside I am shattering too; and the most comfort I can offer Jake is to simply hold his gaze. I let him see on my face just a shadow of the dark fear filling my chest, and hope that it can be enough for him just to know that he's not alone.</p><p>When I realize that they are dragging us toward separate cars, I have to bite back a scream of rage. My teeth pierce my bottom lip hard enough to taste a fountain of hot, metallic blood pooling in my mouth, but I'm numb to the pain.</p><p>I thought that we would at least have the drive back to a precinct before they separated us; and even though I'm ashamed to admit it to myself, I'm suddenly terrified- both to be alone and to leave Jake alone in his current condition.</p><p>He's too far gone in a haze of anxiety to notice that I've been harshly shoved into a different car, until the two officers it takes to restrain him pass me. But when I don't follow him, I watch the horrified realization dawning in his eyes, and the color draining from his face as the fight seeps slowly out of his muscles.</p><p>I think Jake would have collapsed against the unforgiving cement then, if the men digging cruel fingers into his upper arms hadn't caught his weight between them. He is breathing hard, but I can tell even from here that it's too fast and too shallow, and I can't stifle the growl of frustration that my helplessness rips from my throat.</p><p>I want to kill Hawkins, I think savagely; and every single one of her slithering, treacherous men. The urge to beat them all bloody until they understand even a fraction of the pain that they've caused takes my breath away with it's frightening intensity; and I shudder under the strength of it, allowing the violent fantasy to darken my gaze with thoughts of satisfying vengeance for one heady moment.</p><p>Then the slam of a door pulls my mind back to the present. And just as Jake slumps limply into his own waiting van, looking nauseous and only barely conscious, I dig deep to find the steadiness it takes to shout his name raggedly out my open window.</p><p>"Jake!"</p><p>He looks for me, but when he finds my burning eyes with his hopeless stare, I suddenly don't know what to say. I won't lie to my partner and tell him that everything will be ok when I have no idea what fresh hell we're about to go through. </p><p>So I yell the only thing I do know with dazzling clarity, "I've still got your back. 1000 push- ups."</p><p>And even locked in the back of a squad car, handcuffed like a criminal, Jake smiles tightly for me. I can't hear him over the deafening noise of the sirens that begin to wail as my car pulls slowly out into traffic, taking me who knows where; but I see him mouth the same words back to me and I know he's making the same promise.</p><p>"1000 push- ups."</p>
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